To Be A Stone
by KozueNoSaru
Summary: Class of 3000: My first Class of 3000 fan piece. An attempt at describing the rough and rumble girl of the group, Tamika Johnson.


**To Be a Stone**

By: KozueNoSaru

**Disclaimer: **Tamika Jones and other mentioned is the WILLING property of Cartoon Network, Andre "3000" Benjamin and Tom Lynch. I do not own her or the show Class of 3000 because if I did, I would have my sorry ass handed to me. Hey, I wanna live to see my 21st birthday, okay?

**Claimer:** Any character not within the Class of 3000 canon is mine.

**Warning: **Language, Shift in Perspectives, possible OOCness (Look I haven't been watching the show too long.)

**Notes**: A one-shot attempting to describe why Tamika is who she is. This is my first one-shot for the Class of 3000, s go easy on me. Some details might be off, but hey, I'm trying.

**DEFDEFDEF**

Now, I'm sure y'all out there wouldn't be able to tell it, but I ain't no Keke Palmer. I'm a big girl and I'm not afraid to state that fact. And if any of you want to restate that, you're more that welcome to sign you death warrant right now. I'ma tellin' y'all right now: Sista don't play.

My name is Tamika Jones. Y'all better remember it, because it's gonna be big one day.

I'm 13 years old and an up-and-coming harpist enrolled in Wesley School of Performing Arts.

Every since I was little, I've always been a rough-and-rumble kind of sista. I didn't—no scratch that—I DON'T take, excuse my mouth here, bullshit from anybody. If there was one thing my Grandmomma taught me, it was that you gotta show them that you're a rock and a flower all in one. Well, that's fine and dandy if you're a naïve little country bumpkin from the suburbs (no offense, Madison). But for rest of dark-skinned sistas with serious issues, well, we got other ways of coping with the social rankings in school.

In fact, when I was younger, I had to learn that in order to be a rock; you gotta have some experience as a flower first. Day in and day out, people would give a sista a reason why Georgia should tighten up their policies on school violence. As I'm sure yall know, I know alternative ways to dealing with all that.

:: Orchestrated Flashback ::

Eight-year-old Tamika was all alone in the elementary band room of Little Five Points Elementary. She was practicing her string exercises (which she hated, by the way) when Keisha Easterly, a Ten-year-old cheerleader, stormed into the room with her clique. They had come for their daily harassment, for they delighted in teasing Tamika. It was often Keisha that instigated the teasing, but today, she had got too far.

She had the nerve to call m Tamika's long hours of discipline and practice, and she quotes, "a bunch of ignorant noise."

Now, normally, Tamika would have ignored her and her air-headed followers and continued practicing like usual. But to go and call her hard-work "noise"? Oh, Ms. Keisha Easterly was seeing stars after a well-aimed right hook and her followers were running for their lives, terrified of the "fighting big girl".

A smile formed upon Tamika's lips as she went back to the harp and practiced.

:: We will now return to Tamika's Narration ::

Thank, you irritating and anonymous voice….

"Sorry."

From then on until I enrolled to Westerly, nobody dared to mess with me or my friends. (The occasional upperclassmen got the slip, but everyone else better watch out).But being taught by legendary hometown hero Sonny Bridges, I'm starting to learn that not everything can be solved with my own two fists (not for a lack of trying), though the temptation's always going to be there. Sonny has shown me that there are other ways to deal with the problems around you. I knew form the start what my outlet was:

Music.

Music, I learned, is what keeps a talented sista grounded and it also aids in the assistance of defending yourself against a bunch of tone-deaf music critics.

But, being who I am, it took a lot more than the harp, the guitar and lot of sore fingers to subdue the raging rock within in me. I think I finally found a balance—What the--LITTLE D! GET BACK HERE WITH THAT CAMCORDER, BOY!

**The End**

**DEFDEFDEF**

**End Author Notes: **

**_To all New Readers:_** I apologize if this sucked. This is my first Class of 3000 fan piece. I really tried to make this one-shot work. If I get any ideas form seasoned fans, I may re-write this particular fic, and hopefully flesh Tamika out. I wanna write more, but I'm already up to my ass on college mid-terms and other fanfiction projects. Thank you for your time, and see you around.

**_To those of you who have read my other fanfiction consistently_**: I'm sorry for the long delay. College stuff up to my ass was a big factor in my delay. **I _do not_ know when I will write another Super Robot Monkey Fic for this website**. (I HAVE been writing them…they're just not appropriate for this site…or any site, for that matter --;) If any of you have been reading my fic on LJ…I might not be updating **that** one for a WHILE…(freaking writer's block) But, despite concern to my sanity, I will continue with that fic, regardless.


End file.
